


Separation Anxiety

by playswithworms



Series: Protectobot Beginnings [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playswithworms/pseuds/playswithworms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Splitting up for the first time is a big deal for a baby gestalt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Separation Anxiety

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the gestalt_love December 2012 DIY challenge on Livejournal, inspired by prompt "shared space." Part of the Protectobot Beginnings AU, which has lots of other fics, which I will upload here...eventually. In the meantime they can be found at my ff.net, LJ, and Dreamwidth accounts - all under playswithworms. In Protectobot Beginnings!verse, the Protectobots were sparked into full-size frames, but are still considered sparklings for their first ten or so vorns.

“Why don’t just Groove and Streetwise come with me to get the energon, and the rest of you stay here?”

The Protectobots, exactly two orns old today, blinked at Wheeljack and then looked at one another, baffled. They were a bright bunch, all of them, but they were having trouble understanding the concept of separating from one another, even briefly. Previous gentle suggestions that maybe they didn’t _all_ have to come along to check out every new thing had gone right over their helms, but this time, at least, they seemed to be thinking about it.

“Go get the energon…but not all of us?” Streetwise repeated. “But why?”

Blades looked worried, and all five of them were scooting closer together, until they were practically sitting on one another’s laps.

“There’s no rush, if you don’t want to,” Wheeljack hastened to reassure them. Separating was a big deal for a new gestalt; they’d barely been more than arm’s reach from one another since they’d first onlined. “One day, though, you might want to do things separately, like Groove yesterday when he went away a little bit to look at the rocks on his own.” And somehow managed to stuff all of his data ports full of pebbles even under Perceptor’s watchful gaze. Wheeljack was _still_ laughing about that one. Newsparks. Never underestimate them.

“What if…maybe…” First Aid cuddled himself closer to Hot Spot, his faceplates furrowed in concentration. “What if we had to help more than one person. If there was a person who was damaged but at the same time there was a person who was…who was trapped or something. In a different place. We would have to be—” First Aid took his hands and held them together for a moment, then apart “—away, like this, if we were going to help them both.” 

Hot Spot straightened, his optics widening in understanding. “You’re right! Separately. We’ll have to do some things…not together.” Hot Spot didn’t look happy about that idea at all, his faceplates tightening with a sort of grim realization that Wheeljack recognized. Silverbolt had often worn the exact same expression. 

Ratchet exchanged a worried glance with Wheeljack as the Protectobots huddled even closer together. Much of the Aerialbots’ early trauma had stemmed from forced separations when they were younger even than the Protectobots. They definitely didn’t want to push this newly created set of gestalt-bonded sparklings into something they weren’t ready for.

“Like Wheeljack said, there’s no rush,” Ratchet told them. “Why don’t we all go get the energon together?”

The Protectobots loosened a little, Hot Spot’s expression now serious and determined. Streetwise and Groove looked up at him and nodded. “No, I think we can do this,” Hot Spot said, drawing himself up with a resolute push of air through his vents and nudging the rest of his brothers to their feet. 

“We’ll be right here,” First Aid said, as he hugged Groove and Streetwise. “We won’t go anywhere else.” All five of them walked to the door, where Streetwise and Groove, clinging tightly to Wheeljack’s hands, continued on to the rec room while Blades and Hot Spot and First Aid stopped at the entrance. Blades wrapped both arms around First Aid, and Hot Spot wrapped arms around them both, all three watching with concentrated attention as Groove and Streetwise moved further and further away. 

“Goodbye,” Blades said, his tone almost tragic, as they disappeared through the entrance to the rec room. “Farewell.”

“Are you getting the energon?” Hot Spot called.

“Not yet, but we see the dispenser,” Streetwise called back.

“We’re still waiting right here,” First Aid said. 

“We’ll be back soon!” Groove called. “I’m dispensing the energon now.” 

Ratchet gave an amused snort as the Protectobots continued to call reassurances back and forth, giving the play-by-play as each energon cube was fill in the room just a half span down the hall. 

“There you are!” Blades yelled excitedly as Groove and Streetwise reappeared, each carrying a tray of energon cubes, with Wheeljack grinning behind them.

“We’re coming back,” Streetwise said, his optics glowing brightly. “We’re almost back to you!”

“Hello! Hello hello hello!” First Aid bounced, practically jumping up and down in his brothers’ embrace.

“Don’t rush,” Hot Spot cautioned them, although he was almost vibrating with excitement as well. “You’re almost back, don’t spill the energon.” 

With great deliberation, Groove and Streetwise entered the classroom and placed their trays on one of the tables. As soon as the energon was safely placed, however, they were tackled and glomped by their other three brothers. 

“You did it!” Hot Spot said jubilantly, swinging Groove around, and then Streetwise. “You guys were _amazing!_ ” First Aid had to examine them all over, and then Blades had to swing them around, too, and then pin them both to the ground and sit on them for good measure. “You’re back again, hello, you’re back!” Streetwise and Groove giggled and grabbed and rolled, and soon there was a merrily tussling mob of sparkling Protectobots on the classroom floor. Wheeljack hastily shoved the table of energon cubes to the side to give them more room.

“Today the rec room, tomorrow the planet?” Ratchet crossed his arms and met Wheeljack’s optics with a wry, amused expression. “And no one’s even crying. I must say, I’m kind of impressed.”


End file.
